


Building Christmas Nostalgia

by sunshine (sunshinepiveh)



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-17
Updated: 2015-11-17
Packaged: 2018-05-02 04:10:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5233571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunshinepiveh/pseuds/sunshine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim invites Spock to spend Christmas with him in the farmhouse in Iowa. He also wants to convince Spock to join him when the Enterprise departs after Christmas break. Also, this is Spock's first Christmas he'll be celebrating.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Building Christmas Nostalgia

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this story last year and posted it on ksarchive, but somehow I managed to never transfer it over to here. Anyway, better late than never!

It was the winter holiday season here on Earth. Spock was aware of this because it was impossible not to be so. In the halls there was a constant stream of “festive” tunes being piped in. Claiming to be non-denominational, Starfleet played Christmas tunes as well as other traditional holiday tunes, as well as completely random music from other Federation worlds. He'd even heard a Vulcan tune, and was completely certain it had nothing to do with either winter or holidays.

While the students at Starfleet Academy made a last desperate effort to finish their remaining classes before the Enterprise was to embark on its voyage in the new year, Spock steadily taught because he had been asked to. Worlds away his people had already begun work on the new settlement. He had wanted to help. But Starfleet had asked him to teach, and in all honesty, he had not yet decided what to do about the issue of the Enterprise. Would he depart with it? Or depart for New Vulcan? It was unlike Spock to prolong a decision like this, but then he argued to himself, it was unlike himself to make a rash decision, and so he would take his time.

“Spock!” he heard the voice call from behind him. He'd already known it was coming. Jim Kirk had met him after his last class on Friday practically every week for the past several months, in an effort to develop a friendship. It was highly illogical, Spock thought, considering how their relationship had begun, but he was surprised that Jim seemed to be succeeding regardless. The man simply did not believe in a no win scenario. Secretly, Spock looked forward to these encounters.

“Hey.” Jim smiled as he caught up and matched pace. “We still on for chess?”

“Affirmative.” They were always on for chess. It was, in fact, why Jim had just run up to him.

“Great. Hey listen, what do you want for Christmas? Holo-vid? Chocolate? Socks?”

Spock raised a brow. “You intend to give me a gift.” It was more of a resigned observation than a question.

“Well yeah.” Jim rolled his eyes. “It's Christmas! Don't act like you don't know Christmas.” he warned, poking an accusatory finger. “You've been on Earth long enough. And besides, didn't your mother celebrate?”

“She did not.” he answered flatly. He did not wish to speak of his mother.

Jim winced at his stupidity in bringing it up, but pressed on. “But... didn't you ever get any presents? Or decorate anything? Or bake cookies?” Because Jim Kirk's life had been exceptionally shitty, but he'd still sometimes had Christmas for god's sake.

“Jim.” Spock said in exasperation. “Not even all Terrans have done those things.” he lectured. “Jews do not decorate Christmas trees. Jehova's Witnesses do not exchange gifts. Many atheists do not celebrate anything at all. I am hardly an exception to the rule. In fact, I would argue that your own traditions are illogical and abnormal.”

Jim simply stared at him, his bottom lip thrust out in a pout.

Spock did not sigh.

Jim observed Spock not sighing and knew he was not sighing.

“It's not illogical. Haven't you noticed how cheerful everyone is?”

“I have noticed that students appear to be both anxious and excited about the coming finals, and therefore end to the semester. There is also perhaps some additional excitement regarding the upcoming departure of the Enterprise.”

“Hey, yeah, about that, have you --”

“Negative.”

Jim made a frustrated sound but didn't push it. Spock continued to refuse to make a decision on it, and Jim continued to convince himself it was just Vulcan stubbornness, but that Spock had to come. “Fine.” he said petulantly. “But people are so excited about Christmas. You're just a grinch.”

Spock stiffened. “I may not celebrate Christmas but that does not mean I am unaware of the cultural references attached to it.” he replied icily. “And I assure you, I have no designs on destroying everyone else's holiday.”

Jim opened his mouth and no sound came out. He was kicking himself inside for his stray comment. Anyone who thought Vulcans didn't feel obviously didn't know how sensitive they really were. Especially Spock. He reached out a hand for Spock's arm. “Look, I didn't mean --”

Spock twitched his arm away from the touch. Jim fell silent and walked beside his friend. It looked like they were heading to Spock's apartment this time, he noted distractedly. Sometimes they'd eat out first, sometimes they'd go back to Spock's apartment, sometimes Jim's dorm. Jim usually just went with whatever Spock wanted to do. At least Spock wasn't telling him he wasn't allowed to come over.

 

 

Back at Spock's, Jim sat down in his habitual chair in the kitchen while Spock bustled about getting them tea, and setting a cutting board, knife, and vegetables in front of Jim while he prepared other parts of the dish. Jim had no idea what Spock was making for them, but he'd eat it, and he'd chop whatever Spock told him to chop. It was nice, really. And weird. How had Spock gone from a professor with a pole up his ass, to choking him half to death, to an actually pretty cool friend? Jim guessed he was just that charming and continued to chop. It was nice here, just doing little domestic things like this. It wasn't something Jim had ever had before, really. Not with abusive Frank. Not with a neglectful mother. Not with Tarsus, of course. And not while struggling on his own. The closest he'd had were his rare visits with his grandmother.

“What are you doing for break?” he mused aloud.

“Doing?”

Jim sat up straight and mocked “Doing?”

“Yes, Spock, doing.” he interjected before Spock could voice his offence that he hadn't taken. “You know, with the free time. You won't be teaching. You and Uhura going to do something over the holiday?”

Why he and the lieutenant should do anything out of their ordinary routine baffled Spock, and his raised brows said as much. “It is my understanding that we shall go on as we have -- occasional meals, the odd visit. Why should that change?”

Jim blinked. “You serious? I could have sworn she did Christmas.” he muttered.

“I do believe she mentioned something about a visit home over three or four days of our month long holiday. The dates coincide with Christmas. Perhaps you are correct about her intentions to celebrate.”

“She didn't invite you?!” Jim asked in outright shock.

“Why would she?”

“Well because you, she, you guys... you're like together aren't you?”

Spock blinked slowly. “I do not believe so. Are you referring to a romantic engagement?”

Jim's mind was breaking. Just absolutely breaking. “Spock!” he waved his chopping knife around a bit crazily and Spock's eyes tracked it. “She kissed you on the transporter pad like something out of a romance movie or something. Are you telling me you guys haven't been together like this whole time?”

“Why would I date a student? Illogical.”

Jim let out a sound of exasperation, or perhaps he was having an aneurysm. “I can't believe you never told me.” he accused.

“There was, in fact, nothing to tell.” Spock retorted. Jim was being exceedingly illogical as of late. Perhaps it could be attributed to Christmas.

“Yeah, I guess.” Jim muttered and went back to chopping, pensive.

“What about yourself?” Spock prompted.

“What about me?” Jim had lost the thread of the conversation.

“What will you do over the winter holiday?”

“I'm not sure.” he shrugged a bit uncomfortably. “They close up the dorms, so I can't stay there. I could always to back to the farmhouse, I guess. No one should be there.”

“Iowa?” Spock asked curiously. Jim had mentioned being from Iowa, but hadn't spoken much of his childhood.

“Yeah. Riverside.” he said with a half nostalgic smile. He had complicated feelings about Riverside -- as many good memories there as bad. And a past self that in no way resembled his present self. A small town of small minds that he'd outgrown. But a farmhouse that was his now. Not Frank's. Not Winona's. Frank was long dead now, and his mother had put the farmhouse up for sale only months ago, actually. She had her own bad memories there and she never really had been home, he supposed. She didn't want the responsibility of it. But Jim did. He didn't know why he wanted it, but he'd spent nearly all his savings snatching it up from her before a stranger could move in to it. “I bought the old farmhouse a few months back. It's mine now, though I'm not sure what I want it for if I'm going in to space.”

“You will be alone there?” Spock asked curiously. “I was given to understand holidays were a family affair.”

“They are usually. I don't really have any family.”

Spock's brow rose at this. He knew, of course, that Jim's father was dead. But he wondered about Jim's mother. And surely he had other relations? It was surprising to know that this human would be so very similar to himself. Spock had Sarek, of course, and perhaps some of his cousins had survived The Day, but he had no idea. He was certain he had some Earth relations as well, but he barely knew them. They were essentially strangers to him.

“What about Doctor McCoy?” he mused. The doctor had proved to be essentially family to Jim, as much as he had observed.

“Bones? Nah. He's visiting his daughter in Georgia for the entire holiday. Hey.” Jim brightened. “Do you want to come?”

“Pardon?”

“To my farmhouse.” he said with growing excitement. “You said you didn't have plans. Why don't you come out to Iowa with me? We could fix up the place a bit. Play chess and eat like we already do now. Maybe I'll teach you a bit about Christmas.”

Spock was not certain about spending a prolonged amount of time with this human, or anyone for that matter, in a remote farmhouse for nearly a month. But he could not think of a reasonable excuse to give. He actually did not have plans. No one had asked him anywhere, and he would not have any responsibilities. “Very well.”

Jim let out a whoop of excitement. “Awesome. This is going to be great, Spock.”

“If you say so.”

“I do say so.”

 

 

The farmhouse was unimpressive. As they pulled the rental car up the drive, it bounced worryingly over the rough terrain -- dirt mixed with bits of gravel, a driveway in need of more stones for years now, the occasional pothole, not to mention the odd patches of weeds, snow, and black ice. All around them, the barren terrain was blanketed in white snow, trees bending under its weight. The air outside was frigid, and Spock was not looking forward to leaving the warmth of the car.

And in front of them stood the lone farmhouse. Its paint was flaking and it was in need of repair in many small ways that added up to create a rather abandoned aesthetic. Weeds crowded around the front porch. No lights were on inside, of course, giving it an even more vacant feel. But Jim smiled when he saw it nonetheless. Spock reluctantly exited the car into the snowy drive and helped to retrieve his suitcase from the trunk, trudging after Jim in the snow. The drive would need to be shovelled by hand, he supposed, as this far into the countryside there were no hired workers to take care of such things. Though the weather was the exact opposite on Vulcan, Spock had had some remote family and he knew about the inconveniences of a rural setting. It was what it was. Kaiidth.

The front door needed to be muscled opened, frozen or swollen in its frame, and it needed a bit of muscle to shut once opened as well. Jim seemed unconcerned. Inside, the air was as cold as it had been outside, except that there was no snow or wind to chill them further. A fine sheen of dust coated every surface and cobwebs hung in every corner and window frame, blanketing the mantelpiece like the snow blanketed outside. It was damp, and the air was thick was the smell of must and mildew. Spock did see a few spiders, but was somewhat relieved that there was no sign of mouse refuse. It could be worse. He stood there, his fingers cramping with the cold and he was reluctant to place his bag on the dirty floor.

“Home sweet home.” Jim announced. His mother had taken her few personal belongings when she'd moved out, but everything else had been left intact. It was actually easier for Winona, as she didn't have to sell or dispose of all of it. Jim left personal effects in a heap at the front door and took the bags of groceries they'd procured toward the kitchen, Spock in tow. “First thing's first.” he announced and led them into the gloom of a closet long enough for Jim to throw some breakers. A low hum of electricity filled the air as the refrigerator started up, and Jim moved to flick on a nearby light switch. Already the home felt a bit cosier, bathed in a warm glow. “Could you put the stuff in the fridge while I get some heat going?” Jim asked, and left the room without waiting for an answer. Spock reluctantly placed his suitcase on the dirty floor and opened the fridge. At least it was clean. He began to file things away.

Out in the living room, Jim squatted down by the old stove, pleased that there was a full bucket of coal still indoors. He wouldn't have to go out digging for it yet. Still newspapers (though a little damp) and some kindling, as well as matches. All as it had been left. By the time Spock came back out into the main room, a fire was crackling and the air was slowly heating to something tolerable. The mildew scent would dissipate as everything was able to dry out in the new heat.

“Right.” Jim said. “Cobwebs, dusting, and floors, and then I say we call it clean enough and I'll try to get a bed set up for you.”

“Logical.” Spock resigned himself to the task. After all, Jim had explained the abandoned status of the house.

Between the two of them, it took only an hour to get the entire two story building in workable shape. It wasn't a meticulous cleaning job, but things were feeling a bit more normal already. The fire was roaring pleasantly, the weird smell had dissipated to a faint, background scent that accompanied all farmhouses, and it was snowing again outside. Jim flopped down on the couch to soak in the nearby heat of the little stove. “No television account set up, but we have a collection of holovids, and we should still be able to get satellite network access on our PADDs, though it gets a bit flaky during the storms.”

“I am certain I shall be able to occupy myself.” Spock said with a wry half-smile. “Having anticipated my free time, I have brought along a good deal of digital reading material.”

Jim grinned at him. Of course he had. “Want me to get you some tea?” he offered, already rising from the old worn couch.

“That would be agreeable.”

While Jim bustled in the kitchen, Spock lowered himself onto the couch and allowed the warmth of the fire to seep into his bones. It was so quiet here. Not just audibly, but psychically. Spock was used to a low buzz of psychic activity around him at all times. It had been difficult since The Day. He was both painfully alone as compared to before, but also had difficulty in maintaining his shields as his injured mind struggled to heal itself sufficiently. He both craved company and solitude. It was paradoxical. Well, now he had solitude and the company of one. Perhaps it would be an agreeable rest, and he would be able to meditate well here.

For a time, Jim and Spock simply sat beside one another on the couch with their tea, sipping silently, each lost in their own thoughts.

“I'm glad you came.” Jim said quietly. He watched the windows, sweating now from the heat, as little rivulets of water ran down the inside of the pane as ice crystals continued to crust the outside.

Spock simply nodded. He was tired from travel, but looked forward to whatever he might gain from this experience.

 

“Oh my god I love you.” Jim groaned as he padded into the kitchen in his pyjama pants, t-shirt, and bare feet. He'd slept in, but apparently Spock hadn't, and the delicious smell of pancakes had wafted upstairs to waken the sleeping Jim and lure him down the stairs. The chill of the night had already been chased away as apparently Spock had taken it upon himself to stoke the fire. Spock raised a brow at Jim's attire -- not only was it still sleepwear, but how he could be comfortably barefoot and bare armed in this drafty old house, he would never know. Spock on his part, was of course fully dressed in a thick sweater and flannel lined jeans.

Jim plopped himself down on a stool and accepted Spock's offering of blueberry pancakes and maple syrup. A mug of steaming tea soon made its appearance as well. “You are awesome.” Jim enthused, allowing the small spark of caffeine in the tea to perk him up.

“I am glad you approve.” Spock answered with some amusement. Though they'd taken many dinners together, they'd never done breakfast, and never in such an intimate setting. It was interesting to see Jim before he'd fully woken up, hair tousled, eyes still sleep encrusted, and in his sleep attire. He watched with a rare warmth as he ate enthusiastically what Spock had offered, and Spock soon joined him for his own meal as the last of the cakes finished cooking.

“Do you have plans for the day?” Spock inquired as Jim steadily woke up as he ate.

“Mm.” he said, swallowing another overly large mouthful. “We should probably shovel out the driveway and a path to the house. We'll have to just keep doing it, of course, so it seems a little futile, but you never know if there'll be an emergency and we need to get out. I think the car is more or less stuck right now after driving in on top of the snow yesterday. Besides, it'll just pile up more and more if we don't get started. Also have to shovel out the coal pile and bring in some more coal. Also, bad news about the upstairs bathroom. Pipes froze. So I'll have to get them with the heat gun before I can get a proper shower.”

“I had observed the phenomenon.” Spock answered wryly. He had not been able to shower himself either, but had been uncertain as to the problem. As the downstairs faucets still were in working order, he'd utilized the sink in the downstairs bathroom to wash up satisfactorily.

“Yeah, sorry about that.” Jim said with a shrug. “I'd forgotten about it. When it dips below 20 Fahrenheit, which is pretty much all winter, you have to turn on the upstairs tap to drip or the pipes'll go.”

“Would it not be more logical to simply insulate them effectively?”

Jim shrugged again. “It's an old farm house, Spock. It's not that fancy.”

Spock had been unaware that properly functioning pipes were fancy. “I see.”

This, for some reason, caused Jim to laugh. “No you don't. But that's fine.”

Finished with his breakfast, Jim set his dishes in the sink to be dealt with later (or more likely, now, by Spock), and rummaged in the closet for the heat gun. “Found it!” he called out exultantly, holding it up as a trophy. Before trudging up the stairs to face the dreaded pipes, he pulled a good deal of butter out of the fridge and left it on the counter, to Spock's bafflement, then made his way up the stairs.

Spock stared at the butter for a few moments with a raised brow, then promptly ignored it in favour of getting the dishes taken care of. Jim would no doubt be back soon enough and demand to go out in that weather. He looked out the window above the sink and admitted silently that it was pretty in a way, but he could hear the eerie howling of wind against the barren landscape and old house, and did not relish the idea of facing it again.

 

 

Jim fell back in an exhausted huff into the snow behind him, letting the shovel fall.

“Jim.” Spock said with some concern, coming to stand at Jim's feet, gazing down at him. “Are you well?”

“Tired.” he said, catching his breath and staring at the grey sky above. They'd just spent a good deal of time and effort clearing the driveway and the path to the house, and it wasn't exactly exciting work. But now laying on the ground, Jim was recovering some of his enthusiasm.

“Perhaps you should not lay on the ground.” Spock suggested dubiously. It was not logical to rest on the cold ground.

“I'm not laying on the ground.”

“That is --” Spock began in utter bafflement.

“I'm making a snow angel.” Jim interrupted before Spock could get to the word illogical. He grinned.

“A snow angel?”

“I thought you said you knew cultural references.”

“There was no snow in San Francisco. Nor were there such beings as angels made of snow in such holiday themed movies as I have seen.”

“Wait you actually saw the Christmas movies? I thought you just knew about them through cultural osmosis or something.”

Spock stared at him and refused to elucidate on which Christmas films he'd seen or not seen.

Leaving it go for now, Jim began to splay his arms and legs in and out, spreading the snow around him as Spock watched in a sort of baffled fascination. Jutting out a hand for help up, Jim waited for Spock to assist him and carefully hopped away from the form he'd created. “See?” he prompted. “A snow angel.”

If Spock employed a bit of creative envisioning, he supposed he could see the resemblance to the Terran depiction of an angel, and now saw its connection to snow. “Illogical.” he murmured decisively, as Jim burst into pleased laughter.

“Want me to teach you about snowmen?”

“I am familiar with snowmen.”

“Great! Start rolling a ball.” he said, already moving off to create one of his own.

Spock stood still for a long moment, watching this illogical human fuss with the snow and begin compacting the necessary form. He was familiar with the concept of snowmen from, as Jim would say, “cultural osmosis”, but he did not see the point in creating one. Jim, however, seemed to be enjoying himself. Spock, for his part, had been looking forward to returning to the warm interior now that the required shovelling had been accomplished. Indeed, they still had to gather more coal, and it was nearing lunch time. However, it seemed that such notions were not to come to fruition presently. He resigned himself to the task and set about completing his half of the “man”.

It was a few minutes later, while he was meticulously finishing the coal visage of their man that he felt the unwelcome cold wet thwak on the back of his scalp and neck, in the small bit of exposed area between his knit cap and scarf. He winced and turned his sharp gaze to an impishly grinning Jim behind him. Jim's mischievous grin began to fade as he saw the sparks fly behind Vulcan eyes. “Uhm, Spock.” he tried, his tongue flicking out to lick his chapped lips. “Ever hear of a snowball fight?” he offered.

“Indeed I have, Jim.” Spock answered icily, stalking toward him slowly.

“Oh yeah? Well, uhm, good. Want to go back inside?”

“Negative.” Spock answered, reaching down to methodically compact a ball of snow of his own. Jim's eyes widened when he saw retaliation was imminent. He did not have time to duck or take cover before the snowball struck him square in the face. Spock's mouth quirked into a satisfied smirk. His hands were frozen stiff and his nose had flushed green with cold, he'd completed a ridiculous man of snow. But at least in the end he got to see Jim Kirk sputtering in the frozen cold. Before Jim could effectively retaliate, Spock was faster. He pelted the human mercilessly as Jim scrambled to get away, shouting and laughing alternately as he burst through the front door to home base and shelter. Satisfied and smug with his tactics, Spock followed him inside and began to dust the snow off as they changed out of their winter gear.

“You're one sneaky Vulcan, you know that?” Jim chastised.

Spock smirked, but did not reply. “Shall I prepare our lunch?”

“Sounds great.” he said, laying some of their gear out over a wooden bench to dry effectively and moving to stoke the fire. “Guess I'll grab some more coal after we eat. I kind of forgot.”

“You are easily distracted.”

“Yeah maybe. Hey, I should go see if the Christmas decorations are still in the attic!” he enthused, already bounding up the stairs to leave Spock to prepare lunch.

Spock very much suspected that said decorations would mean that Spock would wind up being the one to fetch the coal. He wondered idly how this man had managed to secure himself a star ship if he had the attention span of a child. He supposed that a quickly changing crisis situation suited the man, but he now very much wanted to see Jim suffer through his first star mapping routine. The thought surprised him. It was the first time he'd undeniably desired to join the crew of the Enterprise.

When he returned to the living room some time later to inform Jim their lunch was ready (a simple affair of reheated soup and cold sandwiches), Jim was surrounded by boxes of decorations spread across the floor. “There is lunch.” Spock said, eyeing the décor suspiciously.

“We should get a tree.” Jim retorted excitedly, following Spock into the kitchen to wolf down the food and get back to business.

“A tree.” Spock answered. It was not really a question. He was aware of Christmas trees.

“Yeah.” Jim said with a full mouth. Spock wondered at how he didn't get an upset stomach eating so quickly. “We used to go to a tree farm not far from here. I'll bet it's still around. It's been around forever.”

“For what purpose do we need a tree?”

Jim rolled his eyes. “For god's sake, Spock, I know you know what a Christmas tree is.”

“I know what it is but I do not perceive its purpose.”

“It's festive.” Jim said simply. At Spock's blank look he let out a frustrated breath and tried to figure out a way to explain it. “I don't know. There's the smell of it, which is nice. There are the decorations which are pretty in their own right. I mean, they can be as tacky or enchanting as you choose.”

“I can hazard a guess as to which aesthetic you prefer.”

Jim scowled and refused to take that bait. “Plus you know,” he continued, “I think there's a sort of nostalgia associated with it.”

“I have no such nostalgia.” Spock explained, shaking his head wonderingly. “Perhaps it reminds you of your childhood in some way, but Vulcan did not contain pine trees, much less did my home.”

Jim's mouth twitched into some expression half sad, half a smile, somewhat pained. He was thinking of Vulcan. “Yeah, I guess not.” he said softly, then looked up at Spock with an uncharacteristic intensity. “Maybe we can build some nostalgia for you.” he offered. “Then next year when we put up a tree you can remember this one.”

Spock's side constricted strangely at Jim's words. Since when was there a “we”, and a future Christmas together? And since when did the idea hold any appeal? He simply nodded, and returned his attention to his food. It was settled.

 

The dishes were in the sink and there was no coal in the house, his socks were wet and his outer gear still snowy. But it was no matter. Jim had insisted that as soon as they finished eating they set out to the tree farm. And so Spock was in the small rental car with wet feet in his boots, idly watching the rural Iowan scenery outside of his window. The road was ploughed at least, though not well. And Jim would not allow him to drive, of course, stating that he knew how to get there. Spock had resigned himself to this inevitability long ago, during the trip here. And besides, the trip was a short distance. Before long they were speaking to a big man in plaid, then walking through row after row of identical pines.

“What are you looking for?” he queried.

“The right one.”

“They are all the same.”

Jim sighed and rolled his eyes. “I know you know that's not true. I'll know it when I see it.” And so they trudged. And trudged. Until finally Jim found a suitable tree, and using an antiquated axe he chopped it deftly and began to drag it back toward the car. Spock was cold and irritated by this point. He reminded himself the point of this tree was to build nostalgia, but right now he was afraid he was building frostbite.

At least the tree was not overly large. Jim had displayed uncharacteristic restraint in selecting one about the same height as himself and not too bushy. It was easy enough to strap it to the top of the car and away they went toward home, the radio crackling and playing obnoxious Christmas tunes the whole way as Jim hummed along off key but in good spirits. “This is great, Spock.” Jim enthused. “We'll get home, find the tree stand and put it together, then get the tree in. You've got to water them, of course, or they might catch fire.” he informed Spock, as Spock's alarm rose slightly. “Then we'll decorate the tree first, I guess, and the rest of the living room.”

“I will leave you to it.” Spock informed him. “In the meanwhile, I will attend to the dishes, coal, and evening meal.”

“You don't have to do all that.” Jim said in exasperation. “Jeeze, Spock. And besides, you have to help decorate. How else are you going to build memories?”

“Very well.” he resigned himself. “But I shall first require a hot shower and tea. And you will acquire the coal.” he demanded testily.

Jim grinned. So, his Vulcan was cold? Spock wouldn't admit it, but it was evident, and adorable. “Sure, Spock.” he said softly, warmly. And he was as good as his word, attending to the chores that seemed to have Spock's knickers all in a twist while Spock attended to his comfort. Jim even went so far as to put a few more blankets at the foot of Spock's guest bed in case he got cold in the night. Also, it looked like he was leaning toward getting Spock socks after all, for Christmas. Thick wool ones. Maybe Spock would like that.

 

 

The fire was roaring and Spock sipped his tea on the couch while watching Jim hang decorations on the tree. Spock had helped man handle it into its stand, but was leaving most of the decorating process to Jim. Apparently it was enough that he was present for the proceedings. “Is this very much like your childhood?” he inquired curiously. After all, Jim had mentioned the tree having to do with nostalgia, yet he knew almost nothing about Jim's past.

But strangely, Jim's exuberance dampened slightly and he became quiet. “Not exactly.” he said. “There was as much good as bad. The tree was good. Mom used to decorate it with Sam and I. Even though she missed a lot of our childhoods being in the 'fleet, she never missed a Christmas when we were kids.”  
“Sam?”

“My brother.” This was the first Spock had heard of him, and Jim did not elaborate. Spock thought idly of Sybok, and wondered momentarily where his half brother was. Whether he'd journey to New Vulcan now that everything had changed.

Jim continued. “Frank kind of let off his usual shit when Mom was home, so it wasn't so bad as usual.” He did not explain what was the usual, or who Frank was, but Spock had a bad feeling about it based on Jim's reluctance to explain it. “But he still drank too much. Still was in kind of a shit mood all the time. Mom's family is in Vermont so we didn't see them. We did Grandma Kirk's side of the family Christmas Eve. They were great. Really traditional postcard type stuff.” Jim enthused. “You know, cookies, turkey, decorations, music, presents. Then we had a few things to open here on Christmas morning, and we'd go to Frank's family in the afternoon.” he grimaced.

“They did not resemble a postcard?” Spock guessed.

Jim barked a mirthless laugh and shook his head. “Shitty deli platters from the grocery store and a room filled with more smoke than air. More booze than water to drink.” He trailed off and didn't want to think about it or elaborate. “We'll build better memories this year.” he said with determination.

“I am afraid there are few postcards featuring Vulcans.” Spock dead-panned. “And perhaps none with Christmas Vulcans.” Jim laughed genuinely, as had been Spock's intent, and he inwardly congratulated himself on his success at learning how to joke.

“That's fine. Bones always calls you an elf anyway, and you're a little green. You'll fit right in with the holiday spirit.”

“I do not find that particularly encouraging.”

Jim continued to laugh, his spirits lightened as he finished decorating the tree.

 

 

“What was Vulcan like this time of year” Jim queried as they sat on the couch eating their dinner, a thick root vegetable stew Spock had once again supplied. Jim had convinced him to eat on the couch instead of in the kitchen. Spock, of course, had been dubious about such an activity, but Jim had encouraged him to loosen up a bit. Spock sat stiffly eating his food on the couch now, but Jim counted it as a victory nonetheless.

“It was not like anything.” Spock answered. “The Vulcan year was not the same length as is the Terran year. Therefore it could have been in any number of seasons during your Christmas time. Not only that, but Earth itself has various climates and seasons due to the tilt of its axis. Vulcan, likewise, was not homogeneous.”

“Hm.” Jim answered distractedly. “I guess I never really thought about it.” He took another bite of his stew and fussed with his PADD. “Looks like the satelite's out again because of the snow.” he said, setting it aside. He took up a remote control from the end table and clicked on the big screen mounted above the fireplace mantelpiece, scrolling through a menu. “Ah ha! I thought I still had some old Christmas flicks programmed into this old thing. What's your pleasure, Spock?” he queried.

Spock looked dubiously at the selection available to him. Rudolph. The Grinch. Frosty. Children's movies. He was not encouraged. “I have no preference.” he said safely.

Jim simply rolled his eyes, figuring the Vulcan just didn't want to admit to liking something so illogical. He clicked on Die Hard much to Spock's confusion, and settled back to enjoy. A good two hours later and Spock was reluctantly admitting to having enjoyed the film, and Jim resolved to force Muppet Christmas on him the following evening now that he'd warmed him up. He would melt that icy heart if it killed him.

 

 

Jim came down to breakfast fully dressed this time, and Spock was illogically disappointed. Jim, himself, was illogically disappointed to see today's breakfast was cold cereal and milk. Oh well. One couldn't have pancakes every day, he supposed. “Oh hey, the butter. I forgot about that.” he said, noticing the large amount of butter he'd set out the day before to soften.

“I had wondered whether you had a reason for leaving it out.” Spock stated, hoping to provoke an answer.

“Well duh.” he said, as if something were obvious. “Cookies, Spock!” he enthused.

“Ah.” Spock had no experience making cookies, and very little experience with Terran baking. He was unfamiliar with the specifics of the cookie process.

He would not remain ignorant for long, it seemed, as Jim began the process as soon as he'd finished with his breakfast, having nothing else to occupy his busy mind. Spock had thought that retreating to the countryside over holiday would be a restful experience. He was beginning to doubt that. He resigned himself to cutting out ridiculous tree shapes in dough for Jim, and sprinkling even more coloured sugar on the tops of said “trees”, but he drew the line at the general cacophony of sounds Jim insisted was Christmas music. After a brief argument, Jim compromised by providing something more classical he said was “The Nutcracker”, and Spock was content, though Jim threatened that if he complained again about the music choice he'd subject him to something he referred to cryptically as “The Chipmunks”.

Cookies, Jim thought, were the heart of Christmas. And not only that, but he knew that Vulcans shied away from an excess of sugar due to its mildly intoxicating effects. Effects that were even more pronounced by the introduction of chocolate. And he was more than happy, and more than prepared, to share some cookies, hot chocolate, and a glass of wine with Spock by the fire just after lunch that day.

“Is it not too early for the consumption of intoxicants?” Spock asked with a raised brow, but he did not deny the mug of chocolate, taking the warm liquid in his hands and sipping it as readily as Jim sipped his mulled wine.

“Nonsense. We don't have anywhere to go or anyone to impress.” he grabbed the remote control, pulling his feet up onto the couch and pushing them against Spock's thigh as he sat with his back against the arm of the couch, surprised when Spock did not correct him or shy away from the touch. With a grin, he clicked on Muppet Christmas and was more than pleased when Spock simply accepted it for what it was.

 

 

The two weeks before Christmas were a blur for Jim, and a wealth of experience for Spock. Decorating, shopping, cooking, movies, snow.... As far as Jim was concerned, it was like something out of a fairytale. He'd never had a Christmas holiday like this. He knew he could chalk some of it up to adulthood and finally escaping his shitty family. But a good deal of his pleasure was tied up in this Vulcan who not only tolerated him, but indulged him. Jim had known even before the trip that he'd been infatuated with Spock in maybe a not totally platonic way. But that wasn't too unusual for Jim; he often developed less than appropriate feelings for his friends. He got too attached. It was just something he'd had to learn to live with.

But with Spock... it was different. They were simply perfect together, and he really was trying hard not to overly romanticize it. But today was Christmas Eve, and in just another week they'd have to leave for San Francisco again, and a week after that the Enterprise would take off with Jim in the captain's chair. And Spock still hadn't answered him about being his first officer.

“You are very quiet.” Spock remarked as he came into the dim living room, lit only by the Christmas lights and fire. He sat himself beside Jim on the worn couch and presented him with a plate of cookies. Jim smiled but it didn't reach his eyes, as he took one of the treats.

“Just thinking. It's Christmas tomorrow, you know.”

“I am aware.” Spock was at a loss as to how to cheer Jim. He'd been in a strange mood all day. Perhaps Jim was as conflict as Spock himself was. He had indeed been able to meditate these past weeks after all. More effectively than he had in any of the months following The Day. At first he'd given credit to the remote location and quiet environment. But as his meditation improved, he realized that perhaps Jim Kirk had something to do with his budding tranquillity after all. He hadn't realized until now that perhaps over the last few months he'd been a bit depressed. He'd been grieving. He was Vulcan, and so he was functional. But nevertheless, he was grieving.

He'd lost his mother. His family. His entire planet. The nostalgia that Jim spoke so casually and often about was gone. A blanket Amanda had made for him herself. A badge from his kahs-wan. Family robes. Nearly everything.

But he was half human. And Jim, perhaps his closest human friend these days, was attempting to create new memories for Spock to treasure. No one else, not even Nyota, regardless of how well meaning she was, had thought to do such a thing for him. He'd meant it when he'd said before that Earth was his only remaining home. But thus far it had felt as it always had -- an interesting planet that he was temporarily residing on. A place he taught. That was all. Now it also contained Iowa. Jim's farm house, where he'd been made to feel welcome. A Christmas memory -- his first.

Jim had spoken of next Christmas. That they'd spend it together, and recall this one. But Jim would be on the Enterprise, somewhere out in space, most likely, when the time came. Spock thought about it abstractly, places they might find themselves. Would there be a tree on the Enterprise? Could they effectively synthesize these cookies?

He wasn't sure about the Enterprise, not after the most recent associations he'd built with it. But he was increasingly certain about Jim Kirk.

“Do you want to do gifts tonight?” Jim asked quietly, interrupting his thoughts.

“Is that not traditionally done on Christmas morning?”

“It can be, but some people do it the night before.” Jim shrugged. “And besides, it's our tradition we're building. We can do it however we want.” he gave a small smile.

“Very well.” he nodded.

Jim moved under the tree long enough to retrieve the two boxes that gave nothing away about what they'd purchased for each other, handing the one to Spock. He nodded encouragingly that Spock should go first, and so with great care Spock pulled open the wrapping paper and peered inside.

“Socks.” he said with warm amusement. His eyes sparkled. “Thank you, Jim.” he said sincerely. They were thick wool and sure to protect his feet from the cold snow they regularly contended with in order to shovel and retrieve fuel. He recalled their very first conversation about gifts and knew that this purchase was both pragmatic and a shared joke.

Jim grinned back and tore at his own package with much less finesse and more enthusiasm. Inside he found an old fashioned Polaroid camera, still popular after all these years for its unique experience. Jim smiled when he saw it. “This is great, Spock.” he said enthusiastically, lifting it from the box.

“You had expressed a desire to build nostalgia.” Spock explained. “I am given to understand that photographs facilitate this endeavour.”

And perhaps it said something that the first thing Jim aimed the camera at was Spock himself, giving it a click and waiting for the image to resolve. Spock in his bulky sweater on an old couch in Iowa, looking utterly content. Jim would treasure the photo. “It's perfect.” he said quietly, and he was not looking at the camera.

The emotion was heavy with unspoken thoughts, and the two sat there for a time, not really looking at one another, but not trying to escape the tension of the moment either.

Finally, at long last, Spock spoke. “I believe that I would like to spend next Christmas with you.” he admitted.

Jim turned his head quickly to look at Spock, his heart beating fast. “So you'll come?” he demanded an answer, his eyes desperately pleading not to be let down. Not on Christmas.

“Perhaps against my better judgement.” Spock said and closed his eyes, hardly believing his own decision.

“Oh my god Spock I love you! This is the best Christmas ever.” he enthused in a rush before he could stop himself. But his “I love you” was not said in the same tone as when Spock had made pancakes, and they both knew it. Spock caught Jim's eyes as the words died on his tongue and a look of fear passed behind them as Jim frantically sought a way to back-peddle.

Spock simply reached out slowly to lace his fingers in Jim's, actually holding his hand, and turned his gaze back to look at the fire and the tree, as if it were the most natural action in the entire world. Jim for his part thought he was perhaps having a psychotic break after all, if Spock was actually practically Vulcan-kissing him, or at the very least had to know what hand-holding meant on Earth.

“Merry Christmas, Jim.” Spock said gently.

Jim snuggled himself in as close as he could to Spock's side, choked with overwhelming emotions as he rested his head against Spock's shoulder and stared resolutely into the fire with his Vulcan. “Merry Christmas, Spock.”


End file.
